The Our Group Saga
by Whiskers10
Summary: In 1479 DR, nearly a century after the Spellplague changed Faerun forever, a band of adventurers make their way along the Sword Coast.
1. Chapter 01: A Stolen Moment

**The "Our Group" Saga**

**Chapter 1: A Stolen Moment**

_Disclaimer: The characters and members of "Our Group" were created by myself as fourth edition characters. The land they live in, however, the Forgotten Realms, was sadly not my idea. It's owned by Wizards of the Coast. Whether that's a good thing or not is your own personal opinion._

The Grazing Goat was an unusual tavern even for the Sword Coast. The small, one-story bar and inn situated in a small hamlet 20 miles north of the Candlekeep temple rarely had customers other than members of the community, and the common room of only ten beds usually went unused save for those that had gotten extremely intoxicated or the occasional significant other forced out of the house after an argument.

Aramil Galanodel frowned heavily as he watched the tavern's namesake trot its way through the bar, followed closely by her needy kid. A harried waitress knelt on the floor a few yards away, scrubbing the floor with practiced precision, erasing the goat's latest misdeed from the floor. He munched softly on goatmilk cheese, glaring at the small woman sitting in front of him.

"You said we'd find work here, Callie..." the elf said, his eyes blue and gold daggers.

"How was I supposed to know that this season's usual goblin raids wouldn't happen?" the dark-skinned halfling answered back quickly. "They're certainly happy about it," she added, waving her arm around to indicate the customers.

"I am happy about that," Aramil replied, "but no coin means no new equipment and no lodging. I'm beginning to run low on arrows and Thorik's complaining about having to sleep out in tents for the majority of our journey is getting very annoying."

"Of course you'd say that, elf!" a black-bearded dwarf complained as he sat back down at the table. "You elves and your 'one-with-natureness'," he joked. "I say give me a nice comfortable bed under a nice manufactured ceiling, preferably stone."

"But Thorik, you haven't lived under a stone roof for 30 years, you said..." Callie Highhill interjected, earning a playful swipe from the dwarf.

"That doesn't mean I wouldn't like it," he replied. He took a sip of his ale and a glance at the bread on top of the table in front of him. Deciding against risking his teeth on the hard food, he took another sip. "May Moradin bless this ale, because they certainly didn't," the cleric joked as he sat the mug down on the table.

"It's just a small town," Aramil said as sat the rest of the meal down on the table. "A small town with no work in it for adventurers like us." He paused for a second, looking at the fourth and final member of the adventuring group at the table. Jess Ravenheart had paid no attention to the friendly banter going on around the table on this day, her complete attention on the ritual book in front of her. Aramil shook his head, completely distrustful of magic despite his elven heritage. She was a good person despite being a mage, he added.

"Help!" a cry came from outside of the tavern, causing the four adventurers to stand out of their chairs in alarm. "The goblins are here!" Aramil retrieved his bow and dwindling arrow supply from the end of the table and headed out the door, followed closely by his compatriots.

The scene out of the door was something from a nightmare: houses and sheds on the borders of the small hamlet were aflame, set alight by marauders. Small, greenish-brown humanoids ran through the carnage on their way to the main square of the town. Through his elfsight, Aramil could see short swords in the hands of the majority of the fifteen or so raiders, spears wielded by the rest.

"Seventeen of them," Aramil reported to the rest of the party as they made their way out of the tavern. Villagers ran away from the approaching band, making their way to nearest safe building that they could find. The warning bell began tolling, causing the members of the town's militia to scramble to their posts, crude polearms in hand. "Oh they're going to get slaughtered..." Aramil muttered, notching an arrow to his bowstring.

"Callie," Thorik ordered, slamming the pole of his warhammer into his free hand in anticipation of the attack, "you see that woodpile on the side of that building?" The halfling rogue nodded in confirmation. "Think you can climb up there and give us some cover with your crossbow?"

"I think so," Callie replied with a grin, running as fast as she could to reach the roof of the small building in time.

Villagers too slow to flee the rampaging goblins fell beneath their blades as house doors were sliced open and the contents looted. Aramil fired an arrow at the only open goblin at the moment, and watched as the arrow soared through the air, traveling the fifty feet in a brief period of time before burying itself in the goblin's chest. The goblins nearby their fallen comrade hissed in surprise and pointed at their new foe. They chattered that this one was needed to be killed right away as another member of their ranks fell to the elf's bow.

Jess watched in horror as the goblin raid continued, smelling the acrid smoke poisoning the air after rolling off of ruins that used to be houses. The mage leaned against her staff, wishing that she could be half as powerful as her master was and not just a new wizard out on her own. She raised her left hand as one of the rampaging goblins managed to get through the gauntlet of Aramil and Callie's barrage of arrows and bolts. Two arcane words formed on her lips as she felt the mystical power within her begin to flow through her fingers. She flexed her fingers and released a single pinkish-red missile of magical power. The bolt flew true, dodging small obstacles on its way to its target. It slammed into the goblin in the chest, swiftly burning its way through the leather armor before exploding, killing it without any pain. It fell to the ground, chest smoking in the autumn air.

Its fellows paid no heed, hoping to overrun the militia and mercenary adventurers with their numbers. Thorik and Aramil stood side to side along with the captain of the militia and his best soldiers, melee weapons drawn and at the ready. "Aramil," the dwarf said as he surveyed the charging goblins, another one falling to Callie's sniping. "I'll charge in first, you and the militia follow behind me shortly," he suggested.

Aramil brandished his longsword as the goblins reacted to the dwarf charging into the fray, warhammer swinging with precision. The elf cautiously walked into the melee, followed by the guards, his sword up in a good defensive position. Even though--as an elf--the art of the longsword was trained into him at an early age, his martial skill with one was not quite as good. The twelve remaining goblins against only nine warriors also made him cautious. He swung his blade at one of the small marauders, slipping past his enemy's defenses and inflicting a mortal wound.

Thorik's hammer smashed into the chest of the nearest goblin, cracking ribs and sending them into the very vital organs that they had been designed to protect. The dwarf continued his assault on the raiders, killing one of the foul-smelling invaders with each swing. Sweat beaded down from under his helmet, stinging his eyes.

Jess watched the combat from the distance, disappointment in her blue eyes that she couldn't be of any more help to both the city's militia and her friends. Unlike the others, Callie, Aramil and Thorik, she had no real martial training to fall back upon, only basic self-defense with her staff, as well as a dagger. She stood at the back lines, eyes staring at the melee in front of her. A goblin broke off from the main fighting, trying to find an advantageous position to strike at what appeared to be Aramil.

"Not this time," she muttered as she raised her staff like it was a bow. She notched an invisible arrow and spoke the words her master had taught her for this particular spell. An arrow formed inches from her left hand, green and bubbling. She released the imaginary bowstring and watched as the arrow soared into its target.

The raid turned into a rout minutes later, as the surviving goblins took what little that they had been able to grab from travelers' wagons and fled back to where they had come from. The day had been won.


	2. Chapter 02: The Aftermath

**The "Our Group" Saga**

**Chapter 2: The Aftermath**

Thorik walked through the makeshift clinic set up by the townsfolk in the hour after the battle, looking at the wounded citizens. "He's too far gone," the dwarf said as he saw a particularly injured militia member. A goblin arrow had struck him in the midsection during the opening minutes of the raid, and he had spent the rest of the battle slowly bleeding out.

Aramil sighed and dropped his head as Thorik continued his triage of the wounded. "I should never have complained," he said. The elf continued on with Thorik, placing bandages over the lightly wounded people while the dwarf cast his healing spells on those that needed them most.

"It's not your fault, Aramil," Jess said softly as she walked around the area, moving from one odd job around the rebuilding town to another. At the moment, the young mage was carrying a wooden crate filled to the brim with carpentry tools.

"I know," the elf replied curtly, moving on to the next person needing bandages. He ended the conversation with just those two words.

"What's Aramil's problem?" Jess said as she walked next to Callie a minute later, the halfling having witnessed the "conversation" between the two. Ever since she had joined the group, two tendays after its founding, Aramil rarely had any real words for her, beyond tactical orders in combat. To the others, however, he was far more open.

Callie shrugged and scratched her head. "I don't know the root of the problem," she replied, casting a quick glance at the elf as he continued to work at the field hospital, "but I do know that he's very, _very_ uncomfortable with mages."

Jess shot her short friend a confused look. "I can understand the feelings of common townsfolk, after years of superstition, but why him? Especially as an elf; they're usually very attuned to magic."

"I don't have the answer to that," Callie said after kicking a disembodied goblin hand out of the main road. "It's just the way he is." The leader of the town's council cried out for the halfling, his voice angry at her shirking. "Looks like my break is over..." she lamented. "I swear, you're a couple minutes late and..." her voice trailed off as both women moved away from another.

"Thank you for all that you've done," the village elder said to the sellswords gathered in the village square hours later, as twilight settled in after the sun set over the Sea of Swords. The mercenaries that had flocked in the autumn months to help defend the town from its annual goblin raids now circled the head elder. Tammoth was--despite his title--a relatively young man, pudgy with the decadence of his position in town. He was fit far more to leadership of community rather than fighting, however, so it didn't matter all that much.

"The goblins have done far less damage than they usually do," he added, adjusting his stance so he wouldn't tumble off of the rickety wagon that he stood on. "However, they did make off with several valuable items that could spell disaster for our annual harvest festival next tenday."

The crowd of mercenaries murmured with excitement, the majority of their heads filling with thoughts of a grand payment for the recovery of the items. Those seeking purely wealth grinned when the first item was named.

"The most valuable to us, and most dear," the elder continued as the soon completed its descent into the sea, signaling the end of one day and the beginning of another to the community, "is our temple's holy symbol of our patron goddess Chauntea." He described the symbol to the audience; a bright, red rose fully in bloom surrounded by a wreath of golden wheat.

"Interesting," Callie said to Jess as the head elder began describing common trading goods. "They're still using the older symbol."

"What?" the mage said, not having the halfling's knowledge of the history of that particular religion. She looked at her friend, begging her to explain.

"From the description he gave, it's one of the old holy symbols of Chauntea," Callie answered. "The newer one doesn't have as many shoots of grain, and the rose is almost ruby-like in appearance, and closed."

"Why bring it up?" Jess asked.

"I just find it interesting, that's all," Callie replied. "It's a mystery to me as to why they didn't change the symbol, it's been quite a while since it changed."

"It looks like we're going to be the ones who find out," Jess replied as Aramil accepted the job on behalf of the group.

***

"Two quivers of arrows..." Thorik laughed as the group packed for the trip into the woods. "And all the others were asking for a flat payment of gold in addition to what they found when they raided the goblin's camp. All the elf had asked for, other than the goblin's loot not acquired during their raid were the arrows.

"I needed them," Aramil responded, originally planning on not asking for any "advance" at all. "With the supply I had," the elf continued, restocking his primary quiver, "I would have been forced to go to the sword a lot sooner that I like to." He shrugged slightly as he finished his work and placed the quiver over his shoulder, right next to his bow. "Well," he finished, "I'm ready to go."

The other members of the group stared at the elf. "Lad, it's nearing mid-night," Thorik said. "I think we'd best turn in now, and head out at first light." The others nodded their agreement. They stood up from the table and retired to their individual rooms in the inn.

Aramil sighed as he looked outside, studying the moon's position in the night sky. The majority of the village had already turned in for the night, including the other sellswords still in town. The elf ordered a mug of mead from the barkeep, the older man still awake as long as there were customers to serve. He took a sip of fermented honey and set the mug on the table. "Others and their eight-hour sleep cycles..."


	3. Chapter 03: The Hunt Begins

**The "Our Group" Saga**

**Chapter 3: The Hunt Begins**

The eastern sky blazed with the fires of dawn; the clouds that hung thick over the land catching the rising sun's rays and scattering them throughout the horizon. A flash of lightning burned through the clouds in the distance to the east.

"It's headed this way," Aramil said, his elven eyes peering into the distance. "That's not normal. Not that the way it looks or its direction."

"Not abnormal, though," Thorik grunted. "There's always reports of the occasional storm going the other way."

Callie shook her head, knowing that it couldn't be something that could be explained so easily. "No..." she spoke up. "Such an unusual storm system popping up the day after a holy symbol of Chauntea was stolen from this hamlet?"

Thorik thought about it for a second, and came to the same conclusion. "Talos..." he whispered, frightened to even say the evil deity's name out loud. "This is the work of a follower of Talos." Talos, The Destroyer, as he was often called in whispered tones by the residents of Faerun, was a god of devastating storms and a chief rival of Chauntea.

"The cleric of a evil god was behind this?" Jess asked, wanting to be sure that she was following the conversation as the young mage had arrived later than the others. She shifted the backpack holding her spellbook on her shoulders, wishing that she had some better spells prepared that what she had. Through the tendays following her joining the group, she had easily seen in Thorik what one devoted enough to their deity could do.

"It looks like that is the case," the dwarf answered. "Callie's right, it's too much to be just coincidence." He pulled at his beard thoughtfully, wincing somewhat as one of his pulls proved too strong, and took a black hair with it. "Well then," he said a moment later, "we'd better head out."

The group began their march out of the recovering town, the majority of the townsfolk too engrossed in the rebuilding efforts to even notice. Callie remained uncharacteristically silent as they passed the northern side of the town, where the most damage had been done. Even now, the strongest people in town were digging graves into the soil, preparing the bodies of those killed in the attack for interment.

The Cloak Wood had always been a little feared by those in the area, rumors abounded about large tribes of goblins and gnolls living in the dark depths of the large forest. The most fearsome part of it, the locals said, though, were great and powerful portals that could transport someone to the gods' know where. Jess thought that this was the thing to be wary of most, for whomever ordered the attack on the village could be--if they knew how to operate the portals and if they were even active to begin with--anywhere in Faerun by now.

They stepped into the woods, the ground in front of them turning gradually from the soft green of the fields behind them into a brown mixture of mud and decaying leaves. There was no path through the wood, and fallen branches lay littered in their way. Aramil kneeled on the ground, eyes carefully studying the ground for any sign of the raiders' passage. The forest bed in the area had been disturbed lately, but from so quick a study the elf wasn't able to tell if it had been from the goblins or animals.

Jess scanned the horizon on her own, doing her best to see through the thickly spread trees. Nothing seemed out of place to her. She turned to look at what Aramil was doing.

The elf ran his index finger along the ground, tracing the newly found track in the damp mud. "Goblin," he reported after clearing the imprint completely, gently removing small leaves and twigs from it. His eyes followed the tracks forward, the task much easier now that he had found the first track.

Callie nudged Thorik with her elbow. "Right over there," she said, the rogue making a barely discernable gesture towards an outcropping of rock sitting on a hill. "Good ambush spot."

The dwarf nodded as he gave a brief look at the rock barricade. "Anyone there?" he asked. Callie shook her head in response.

"Not that I've seen," she said, "but I wouldn't doubt it." She looked at the others and saw that they were on the lookout for where the goblins had headed. She excused herself from the party and headed off to the side.

The goblin sniper lay in wait against the rock outcropping, his back against the stone side away from the sellswords. He held his crossbow tight against his chest and began to sneak into his sniping position. He lay there for a minute, studying his targets, making his decision on who would be the best person to take the first shot at. The elven archer that had butchered so many of his fellow goblins--some of them brothers or other kinsmen--was following the tracks that the band had made while retreating. He would be such an easy target, especially in his distracted state.

He stopped, however, and considered taking out the little one as she wandered off from the rest of the party, most likely to relieve herself. She had also rained death from afar with her own crossbow during the battle. But the mage, however... And the dwarf... He debated for a few seconds, his goblin mind struggling to come up with who was the biggest threat to his master and his plans. "The elf..." The vile creature took aim at the ranger.

"Look what I found..." a female voice said from behind him. The startled goblin rolled around to face a dark-skinned female as tall as he was. She had a smile on her face, happy at finding the potential killer. The little thief! He brought his crossbow up in an attempt to elude capture or death as the rain summoned by his master's god began to slowly begin. The halfling shouted out at him to stop, but the goblin didn't listen. By the time he was able to square her in his sights, her own bolt had pierced his heart.

"Find anything?" Thorik asked as Callie rejoined the group.

The halfling gave a slight smile as she placed her crossbow back onto her backpack. "Nothing too difficult," she replied. With that said, the group began walking down the same route that the retreating goblins had made, moving deeper into the Cloak Wood.


	4. Chapter 04: The Sylvan Road

**The "Our Group" Saga**

**Chapter 4: The Sylvan Road**

The noon sun struggled to beat through the dark storm clouds that were choking the day. Small beams of light managed to sneak their way through, only to quickly be smothered out as soon as they had reached freedom. The rain fell. It had started slowly three hours previously, but had grown into a steady rhythm over the last thirty minutes.

Thorik's boots sunk into the rapidly muddying ground, his dwarven stockiness seemingly making each step more and more difficult. Even now, his calf muscles burned through overexertion. He leaned against a tree for a second, his chainmail armor clinking against the wooden bark. He needed to catch his breath. "Moradin, help me," he breathed out a prayer. He watched with some shame as the rest of the party slowed down to accommodate him.

"Now's as good a time as any to take a brief rest," Aramil said as he leaned against a tree as well. A roll of thunder rumbled above, causing both the elf and the dwarf to abandon their rest areas. Callie, the majority of her boots caked in wet mud, futilely attempted clean them by scraping them against a dead tree. Little by little, mud was removed only to immediately be replaced by more as the halfling moved to clean the other boot. Disgusted and infuriated by the uselessness of the all, Callie moved down a yard on the fallen tree and sat down on it.

"This whole thing is getting worse by the hour," Jess pointed out after a few minutes of resting, the mage clad warmly in her robe, the usually open fabric now tied tight around her to keep the rain from soaking her completely. She gazed up towards the sky, beads of rainfall occasionally dripping off of her hood. "We'd better get moving. I have a feeling that there'll be cyclones in the area by midnight."

Thorik couldn't help but shiver at the thought. He had been born in a great labyrinth of catacombs carved deep into a mountain range to the south, and--despite living on the surface, teaching others about his deity for the past three decades--he had never seen a cyclone, only hearing about its potential for great devastation. He certainly didn't want to be anywhere other than deep inside rock when one touched down.

Callie looked up through the canopy, the halfling's eyes studying the dark sky, blinking to clear the rain from them. The sun-smothering clouds now covered the entire area, seemingly stretching for miles in every direction she could see. Something thudded in the mud beside her, splattering even more on her dirty boots, making it nearly impossible now to sneak up on anyone. She swiftly turned her head to where the unknown missile had landed and saw a large white ball in the middle of the ground. She cautiously approached it, the other members of the group keeping an eye out for any more dangers.

Callie gently ran a finger over the object but quickly pulled her hand back upon first contact. It looked like it was around an inch in diameter and freezing to the touch. "It's cold," she remarked to the party, puzzled since it was still too warm for this kind of weather.

"It's hail," Jess explained. "That means there should be..." The mage was cut off as smaller beads of ice began falling through the bare tree branches. The pea-sized hail stung their exposed skin.

"It's putting dents in me armor!" Thorik exclaimed, lapsing into the thick dwarven accent he had abandoned since his youth. Stung and smarting from the hail hitting them, the group broke out in a sprint for the nearest bit of shelter, Aramil leading the way. The elf looked at the ground, hastily picking up the goblins' trail and following it as best he could. Something burst nearby, a flash of light and sound. A tree twelve yards away from Aramil exploded, sending slivers of wooden shrapnel flying as what remained of the old tree began to burn.

Jess picked herself off of the ground, having dived for cover as soon as she had heard the explosion. She knew what it was well enough, having seen her own teacher throw off magically made lightning bolts at orcs when she was younger. The others did the same, all but Aramil. "Yer not laying down on the job this time!" she heard Thorik say as the dwarf picked up the injured elf and carrying her along what he thought was the trail being followed to begin with. After a few minutes, they had reached a small cave entrance.

Thorik gently sat the wounded elf down to the ground, examining the leg that he had been complaining about. Right above his left knee, Thorik saw, was a large piece of wood embedded into the flesh. The still-conscious elf gritted his teeth as Thorik pulled the arrow-sized piece of shrapnel out of his body. Blood quickly poured out of the wound before being held in place by the injured elf.

"Looks like it hit an artery," Thorik explained, helping his friend apply pressure to the wound. He looked up to the sky, seemingly seeing through--or right into--the cave ceiling above them. He chanted in dwarven, a language that only he could understand or speak in the group. The only recognizable word that they could place was "Moradin". Aramil felt a warmth spread through the burning wound and felt the pain slow down and get dimmer with each second. It didn't take long for the pain to be nothing more than a light itch above his knee. Aramil removed his hand from the wound and wiped away the blood. The wound was now only a thick scab in his leg.

Aramil stood up, testing his leg. He shifted his weight on it, expecting to give out at any second. It held. "Thank you," he said to the dwarf cleric, having seen his healing powers in action before but never needing them for himself. He leaned over to retrieve his bow and stopped. "The goblins went through here," he said, seeing the tell-tale tracks in the dirt of the cave entrance floor. He stared into the depths of the cave, him and Thorik seeing what the other two could not. "We should go now," he added as the hail became constant outside, the heavy rain and lightning continuing. "The village may not have long until a major catastrophe hits."

Jess looked into the darkness, the confining walls that were likely the beginning of a large labyrinth, all leading to whoever had sent the goblins to raid the village. The cleric of an evil god, the others thought, and that seemed very likely. "_Shirak_," she whispered, the arcane word in several planes of existence for activating a spell of light. Her staff glowed with magical light, letting her and Callie see normally, and letting the two with better low-light vision see even further.

Ready for what lay ahead, the group of adventurers began their journey into the cave.


	5. Chapter 05: Into the Depths

**The "Our Group" Saga**

**Chapter 5: Into the Depths**

Jess held her staff out in front of her, allowing the glowing top to shine its light into the darkness of the cave. The entrance was now far behind them as well as above. The damp floor sloped slightly, fortunately not enough to make the spelunking adventurers to lose their balance. The mage gazed up at the rock ceiling only a yard above her head, small stalactites protruding downward. The mineral deposits hadn't been there for long, she knew, at least in a geologic sense.

Nothing lived in there, though, she thought with some confusion. In most caves there would have been bats or at least some form of insect that would have been seen by now, she knew. Disturbed by this, she gripped her dagger desperately. There was obviously something alive down in the caves, she knew, but it certainly wasn't natural for the environment.

Callie led the group down the tunnels, a few paces in front of the elf. The halfling held her crossbow at the ready as she snuck down the corridor. While she couldn't see past the shadows that Jess' staff cast off, she was probably the one in the group with the fastest reflexes. The shadows in front of her danced as the mage used her staff as a walking stick; the slight band of difference between grays and deep black moving back and forth in time with Jess' steps.

Callie raised her crossbow a split second later, seeing the telltale glint of light upon metal for only a brief moment. She took a step forward, her crossbow aimed at the area on which the glint had appeared. All that appeared in the area was an empty corridor. She squinted her eyes, knowing that they weren't just playing tricks on her in the darkness. "Aramil," she whispered, making sure that only the sharp-eared ranger could hear her. "Saw something ahead."

Aramil nodded, the halfling knowing that he had heard her by his long shadow on the ground. He looked ahead, towards the area that he believed that Callie's vision ended. Several meters beyond that point, his own vision ended with a right turn. If Callie had truly seen something, his own studying of the corner had prevented him from seeing it.

The wall was smooth from years of water erosion, with not a rough patch on it. The cave so far had been completely natural. Wait, he thought, carefully studying a section of wall near where Callie had mentioned. The wall before and beyond it continued to be as smooth and eroded as the rest of the cave, but that one patch was far too different from the rest of the cave wall. It looked _unnatural_. That was the only way for him to describe it.

The ranger raised his bow and aimed at the unnatural part of the wall aiming for a spot just ahead of the right edge. If his thoughts were correct... He released his bow string, the arrow soaring to the target and then tearing through. A scream sounded from behind the wall, one in the unmistakable goblin language. The goblin's body fell from behind its hiding place, taking the thick fabric painted to match the cave's wall with it. Surprised by his fellow's death, the sentry's partner rushed out of the carved niche in the wall, crossbow firing at the first thing he saw.

The quarrel bounced off of Thorik's armor, the tightly bound chains of metal absorbing the piercing effect of the bolt. The stubborn dwarf grunted as the bolt punched his chest hard and raised his warhammer ready to charge at the offending goblin. The creature nearly froze out of terror at the sight of over 300 pounds of muscle covered in chainmail charging toward it. That sight, and the image of a warhammer beginning its descent, would be the last thing the goblin would see alive.

"Sentries," Callie said as she examined the hiding place that the two goblins had used to spring their ambush. "They probably heard us coming down the path and hid in the nearest one of these."

"There's more these death traps?" Thorik asked.

"More of them," Callie answered, viewing the interior, "but I'm not sure on the sentries. There _may_ be more," she added.

Aramil nodded and stepped up to the front of the cave path. "I'll scout ahead," the elf said, taking slow and silent steps ahead. Minutes passed for the rest of the group as they awaited the scout's return. Though they didn't have the ears that the elf did, each of the three strained their own in an attempt to be the first to discern his return.

He snuck down the large tunnel, noting how the amount of stalactites and stalagmites had shrunk exponentially since the opening of the cave. Despite the opening of the cave being completely natural, he was beginning to enter a man-made portion that the builders had tried to make look natural. "Odd..." he thought out loud.

The ranger continued on his trek, navigating the four-foot wide passage carefully, his eyes scanning the wall for any more of the "kill holes" created for the goblin sentries. The other two that he had discovered had been empty, and he had wasted two arrows apiece finding that out. He dutifully destroyed the fabric over them, however, knowing that when he and the group returned that a sentry would think twice about using an ambush spot that was already known by his intended prey.

A quarter of a mile later, he judged, the path split in two. The path to the left had a slight tilt that led deeper under the ground. The one on the right continued onward. The ranger kneeled on the rocky ground, looking for any possible signs of recent passage down either tunnel. Elven eyes studied the area, crossing ground of smooth stone and not much else. There it was! A small piece of fabric from a goblin's shirt, headed down the left path. He followed the path down.

"There's a small goblin camp about half a mile down the left," Aramil reported before he even got into sight of the group, the elf coming from around a bend in the rock as he finished his initial sentence. "I saw about twelve of them," he added, "but there could be more. No sign of whoever may be in charge, and that's as far as I dared go alone."

"Twelve of them shouldn't be too challenging," Thorik mused, eager to continue the battle.

"Speak for yourself," Jess retorted. "For Aramil and yourself, if your ranged attacks fail it is completely feasible for you to revert to melee. I have no such backup if the beasts get too close for my spells."

"Typical of a mage..." Aramil snorted under his breath, not doubting the wisdom of her words but just the way that she had said it. It was so typical of a magic-user, thinking only of themselves instead of others. Jess glared at him, hearing his words.

"Well," Callie thought out, quickly trying to defuse the situation from turning into a large argument at the worst possible time that it could break out, "we can always attack them range and then fall back into the tunnels and wait for them to come to us."

"If they have spellcasters of their own?" Jess asked.

"We'll just have to take them out first, then," Callie answered.


	6. Chapter 06: Every Action Has a Reaction

**The "Our Group" Saga**

**Chapter 6: Every Action Has a Reaction**

Callie Highhill snuck quietly into position near the goblin encampment, the artificial light and heat source used by the invaders making her even more cautious. A single misstep could alert the dozen or so goblins of her presence and spell certain disaster for the group's ambush plan. Crossbow in hand, she dropped to her knees as she approached the ten-foot depression in the ground where the camp was located. She crawled to her ambush spot, spying the small brown-green humanoids make their way around their temporary home.

"Ready," she heard, a low and magical whisper directed to her by Jess, signifying that the mage and Aramil were in their positions. Aramil had sneaked to a better sniping position than even she was in, but her own range would make actually hitting the targets easier she believed.

She took aim at the closest goblin, leading the foul creature with her sights as he walked from one tent to another. She took in a deep breath and finally pulled the trigger. The string and the bowed ends of the weapon snapped forward, pushing the quarrel rapidly toward its target. The whipcord reached the end of its short journey and began to vibrate with an audible buzz.

Callie rose to her knees and swiftly began to pull the whipcord back, resetting the bow back into its loaded position. The goblin shot by the halfling rogue fell to the ground beside his startled comrades, dead. An arrow flashed into the area, striking down one of the monsters as he first began to turn around to look for where the first shot had come from.

The goblins looked up and saw the kneeling halfling working on reloading her weapon. The current leader pointed up at her and shouted in the barking goblin language, leading his men to the enemy that they could see. [Get her!] he shouted a mere second before a magical missile slammed into his chest.

"Move, move!" Aramil shouted to Jess as the two noticed the camp beginning to mobilize to fight off the intruders. The elf cursed in his native language when he realized that his initial estimate of twelve goblin warriors in the camp were incorrect by around seven. He spun around and planted an arrow in the chest of a charging enemy. A shoddy, goblin-made arrow wobbled past the ranger and the mage, missing the two by a great margin and shattering against the stone wall behind them. Jess turned her attention to where the attack had came from and saw the group of goblin archers as they prepared to loose a volley at them. One fell to Callie's sharpshooting abilities, leaving only three remaining.

Three arrows glided their way to the mage and elf, clacking against rock. Jess felt a streak of pain along her left arm as one of the incoming projectiles scratched her. Aramil had turned around, halting his retreat once more to attack one of the archers. His own arrow was on the mark, striking the opponent in the throat.

A minute later, they had reached halfway between Thorik's position from their own sniping spot, the other two goblin archers dead and a host of melee-oriented warriors headed their way. Callie had retreated first and now the halfling was safely behind the heavily armored dwarf, waiting for the others to reach the choke point.

Jess ran, carrying her staff with her, the wooden implement making it difficult to run as fast as she would have liked. The mage stopped, a spell in mind that she could use to take out as many goblins as she could. It was a dangerous spell, although she had seen her own teacher use far more effective spells. She turned to face the oncoming goblins and dropped her staff on the ground. She held her hands out, fingers splayed and with her thumbs touching. "_Igneus Manuum_," she chanted as the goblins reached her range, feeling a warmth spread from her fingers and out. Gouts of flaming spread from her outreached fingers and towards the goblins that she was pointing at. The inferno tore into the goblin ranks, igniting hair, skin and clothing.

Jess Ravenheart shut her eyes and cringed as the screams of the burning goblins began. Those that had caught the brunt of the blast scattered in their death throes, doing everything that they could to put the flames out. Those in the middle of the column fled backwards, igniting those that they ran into. The scorching flames ended seconds later, but the destruction did not. By the gods, the screaming!

"Oh no," Aramil said as he watched the spectacle unfold. Jess was frozen in place, too horrified by what the consequences were of her spell to even move or defend herself. Aramil didn't blame her. Despite his abhorrence of magic, the elf would have felt the same thing if he had access to such a power and had used it. Such death on so simple of an action. He notched an arrow and fired rapidly at one of the two goblins that remained unharmed. The first one, still stuck on patting out the small fire that had started on his cloak, was killed before he could even react.

Jess' eyes were welded shut by the pressure of her stress, her ears stinging with the sound of the dying goblins and the flames doing their work. She faintly heard her voice being called by the other three members of the group and tore open her eyelids to see the blurry form of a short-sword wielding goblin charging toward her. She frantically scanned the area for any weapons and noted that her staff was on the ground, too far out of her reach to get to it in time.

The goblin leapt up, using his free hand to grasp onto her robe and shifted his weight so that his momentum from the leap would keep him going forward, taking the dangerous mage with him. Jess toppled to the cave floor, right hand reaching for something on her belt. The goblin screamed in pain as they both hit the ground, and it arched forward, sword arm raised. Whether it was an attempt to administer a _coup de grace_ on her or the result of hitting the ground, Jess did not know. A loud thump came from the direction of the goblin's head and the deadly creature fell sideways to the ground, his blade clattering to the ground. An arrow was stuck in his skull. Jess moved her right hand away from the goblin's chest, wondering why it had followed with the dead goblin. Her question was answered as she pulled her bloody dagger out of the creature's corpse. Now she understood why the goblin had raised up as they had hit the ground, she was pushing it.

The mage slowly stood up, slowly returning her sullied dagger to its scabbard. Slowly, she walked back to the group. "Jess, are you all right?" Thorik asked her, seeing the expression on her face. The mage said nothing in return.

"It was the spell, it had to be," Aramil concluded, noting how she had frozen in terror or regret when the consequences of such a spell had been witnessed.

"Yes," she replied. "I didn't know that it would be so painful," she cried. "They may be goblins but they deserved to die quicker than they did. My other spells are much quicker, I just thought..."

"Magic can be like that," Thorik replied, the cleric having seen many mages and their works at the monastery where he had been trained. "It's alright, you didn't know," the dwarf reassured his friend. Aramil thought a particular hurtful thing to say; that a mage should know of what there spells could do before casting them, that it was irresponsible for them not to. He held his tongue, though, for now was not the time to bring up his feelings on magic. Not when Jess had been through so much.

"Look," he finally said. "The thing is that you now know what it can do, right?" Jess nodded her head. "Simply don't use it again unless you need to," he suggested. "That seem right?"

"Yes," Jess replied. "I'll have to use my other spells." She walked to where she had dropped her staff and picked it up. The wood had been unmarred by dropping it to the ground. The mage pointed towards a lighted opening several yards away. "We should head that way," she suggested. "That should be where our foe is..."


End file.
